


The Player

by VivatMusa



Category: Harvest Moon
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Metafiction, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:42:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25750774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivatMusa/pseuds/VivatMusa
Summary: What if the Harvest Moon characters knew they were in a video game?
Kudos: 5





	The Player

**Author's Note:**

> My friend, Ashardalon125, wrote this for me as a gift, and I loved their refreshing, aware take on HM so much, I asked if I could share it with all of you. They said "yes," so here it is! :)

Julian looked down at his watch in the light of the candle, a frown adorning his face. He'd been dreading this day for far too long, and each second came closer to proving his suspicions.

Glancing up, he took in the sight of the road up to his home. The winding, twisting path was quite long, covering the span of the front side of the hill. Or at least, he presumed it was the front side, since that would be the side players would see. Any other side would be obscured because of the camera angle, and thus, be impossible to navigate. And it aligned with the rest of the town, which eerily faced almost entirely south, with strange gaps behind homes that no one questioned.

It was fortunate that whenever he needed to make an excursion down to the town, he could take his personal cable car. Being the sole owner of the key needed to change the station, it would always be at whichever platform he needed. The town had acted like it was some kind of witchcraft, and he shook his head in amusement. Railroads were normal, but a cable car was madness.

Movement caught his eye, and his frown deepened. Through the rain, he could see a figure making their way up the path. He knew even without seeing who it was. Every one of the villagers avoided the place, and he knew why; his home was so far out of the village that taking the path up there at their set walking pace would barely give them enough time to do anything else in the day. Sure, a couple of the villagers went to odd places on the map, but they tended to hover about the town like flies on a carcass, eagerly awaiting their turn to be set pieces in some rural scene.

No, the only people who came up here were people he very, _very_ occasionally invited, and The Player.

He had known the second The Player moved in. Through his binoculars, he had watched the village and seen the change to their behaviours. He'd only been here a few years, but their behaviour was predictable down to the second. He even had charts in his desk (once he'd fought off the irritating urge to hang them on the wall, faced to the south). Carefully calculated and collaborated, even accounting for weather and holidays.

So he'd known The Player had arrived immediately. He even knew where they were moving in; the old farm west of town. Why it was always west, he didn't know. There was always a farm west of the town, and a loading zone between it and the town. Sometimes it was a little north, but almost always west.

For the first few days, he watched discretely from his house on the hill. He had desperately hoped it was just a new NPC, but to his dismay, they displayed classic Player behaviour. The first day was spent just running around the map, pushing the limits of the strange pull the town had and talking to everyone.

The second day was spent preparing the farm. The Player worked with an unnatural speed and determination. Precisely laid out rows of upturned earth, sprinkled with seeds and carefully watered. Julian had put that as a point that they'd played these kind of games before. It wouldn't be too long before they got bored and started playing a different game.

Within no time at all, they had made the hike up to his small home, courtesy of their ability to move at a pace faster than a slow walk. It had still taken a portion of their morning to get up there, and he smirked to himself with the knowledge. But a bit of his memory made the smirk fade as he recalled it.

* * *

It was a sunny day, and Julian had nothing better to do than to watch the window as The Player came up the hill. He had been dreading this since they moved in. Players had a tendency to wander everywhere, and of course his house would be on the map. He only wondered what the townsfolk had to say about him, if anything. Probably some vague hints as to his nature and studies, if he had to guess. Maybe the game treated him like a secret character. He smiled at that; seemed like enough of an honour, given the existential hell the knowledge was.

The Player was a woman. Dark skinned, surprisingly. Most players tended to play white women, so having her be even a lighter shade of black was rare. Short hair too, so he guessed either a guy was playing, or a not-very-girly girl. He really hoped it wasn't a guy. He certainly didn't hope it was a completionist. It'd be years before he had peace again.

He would use this as a chance to see what kind of Player it was. If they were new to the game, then they would likely talk to him first, then wander around the house, checking everything before leaving. If they were a returning Player, they'd probably bring him something they looked up as the best gift they could give at this time to him. Tapping his finger on the windowsill, he wondered how that would play out. No doubt, the game expected him to develop "hearts" with The Player and maybe events, but if he knew, would it happen? Part of him feared the idea of being absorbed into the game, and taken along for the ride.

His time to contemplate on it rapidly diminished as The Player arrived. Cynical as he was, he wasn't rude, and when they knocked on the door, he answered. Opening the door, he squinted through the light, looking down at the woman in front of him in more detail.

The first thing he noticed were her dark eyes looking up at him with a hint of a confusion that faded rapidly into a warmth that caught him off guard, accompanied by a slight, but sincere smile. Her green shirt was already a little dirty from work, and her jeans even worse so, the hem weaving in and out of her belt line in a messy wave.

His fascination with her appearance made it so that it took him a moment to realize she was offering something to him. She had her arms out rigidly, a flower cupped in her hands. Glancing down at it, he frowned, already feeling something inside shrivel back and sigh. Standard Player behaviour; tracking down characters and giving simple gifts. A particularly sarcastic retort hovering on his tongue, he looked back up at her, only for it to stick there as he saw her face.

Through the smile, he could see a hint of concern, of confusion, and of something else he couldn't quite detect. Quick as it appeared, it was gone, hidden behind sincerity. After a moment, Julian hesitantly accepted the flower, eying her with suspicion, but all she did was lower her hands and smile brightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she clasped her hands behind her back.

"I suppose I should say hello or something," he finally spoke, turning to lay the daisy on the side table by the door. He would attend to it later. Sliding his gaze back towards the woman, he fixed her with his best dry expression, hoping it was communicated to The Player. "Normally this is the part where I give some vague hint to my complicated emotional state and the way to romance me, but I think I'll skip that. After all, I always found the idea that romance fixes everything rather distasteful."

Julian crinkled his nose in disgust at the thought, shaking his head. "No, if you want to romance someone to fix them, I'd recommend...Mary. The game won't admit it, but her entire story path is basically a euphemism for alcoholism. Not even a good one either."

He paused as The Player nodded her head, but something about it was off. It felt too stiff and mechanical, like someone else was grabbing her head and imitating a nod, especially by the expression of mild surprise on her face, no matter how well she tried to cover it up. Something in his gut twisted and he turned to the side, masking it with dispassion.

"Either way, I wouldn't come knocking around here. I'm far too busy to deal with you," he dismissed. Closing the door, he didn't miss the way that she leaned to the side to try and see past him, or the surprise on her face when she saw his newest experiment on the wall. And he certainly didn't miss the little wave in the last sliver of the door.

Sighing behind the door, he forced himself to turn away. Life was going to be a lot more complicated now. He had no illusions that The Player would come again.

* * *

Despite his displeasure at the situation, Julian would not count himself among the number dubiously proud of their sadism, and he was ready at the door when The Player arrived, drenched from the morning rain. He opened the door silently, and she flashed him a thankful smile, shivering slightly as she stepped into the warmed building. The wonders of central heating.

Her eyes went to the vent in the ceiling, seeking its warmth, but her body had other plans. She turned to face him, and he could see the reticence in her eyes as she awaited a response.

"Why don't you take a moment to dry off?" he offered, gesturing towards the center of the room. "I'll still be here."

Fortunately, The Player seemed to get the point and walked under the vent. He could see the sigh of relief and shudder of pleasure as they walked under the hot air. She turned to face him with a thankful smile before her expression faded into surprise.

He gave her a curious look before turning to follow her gaze, realizing belatedly that she was staring in blatant awe at the clippings on his wall. He'd completely forgotten that he'd put them up while trying to solve some of the things about the town. What was more surprising was she could _see_ them.

He glanced back at her, and he almost spoke before biting his tongue. He really didn't want to give The Player the satisfaction, but if she could see it…

He gave a quick flick of his head towards the wall, cocking an eyebrow questioningly. She looked at him in confusion before slowly nodding. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something, but no sound came out. She smiled sadly at him instead.

A simmering hatred curled deep in Julian's stomach, and he wanted nothing more than to send The Player from his sight, but seeing how much she was enduring made him hesitate. He couldn't rightfully punish someone for being less fortunate than him. Instead, he sighed again, heading to his closet. Digging around, he searched for the item in question.

"Ah, here it is," he muttered, pulling out an umbrella. Turning, he raised it so she could see. "You should-"

"Clara."

He blinked slowly as she finally spoke, fixing him to the spot. Rapidly, he became aware of just how animated she look. The normal robotic posture she had was gone for the moment, replaced with a nervous energy as she looked around and rubbed her arms for heat.

"What?"

"My name. It's Clara. Everyone keeps calling me Beth," she chuckled, and he realized with a start that some of the moisture on her face wasn't rain, but tears.

"Are you-"

"No," she answered hastily. "No, I'm not okay. My God, it's so nice to talk...even for just a moment."

For once, Julian had no response, and so he just stood there, staring in silent sympathy. Suddenly, all the resentment he had faded away, replaced with pity. The Player might be a bother, but Clara was not. She was more of a victim than even he was.

"You're welcome here whenever you want," he blurted impulsively. "That is, you are. Technically, The Player is by extension, but you'll never be unwanted here."

Clara smiled, nodding despite another shiver. "Thanks…"

"Julian."

"Julian," she smiled.

"So uh...how often do you stop being controlled?"

"Not often. Sometimes for a couple of moments here and there. Mostly at night. Once I crawl into bed, suddenly I have control."

Julian's mind raced, and he turned to the wall, looking at the papers. Only yesterday, he had felt so on top of everything, having mapped out almost everything, but now it suddenly seemed useless. He opened his mouth, trying to figure out what question to ask first.

But as he turned back, Clara had gone rigid once more, and simply smiled at him sadly. It was almost painful to watch; the downward curl of her mouth fighting against the earnest thanks in her eyes.

The rest of the visit was forgettable. Julian grew increasingly frustrated with "Beth's" constant prodding at his stuff, and eventually saw her off with an offered umbrella. The entire time, he was waiting for the facade to break, and Clara to come back, but it never happened. He could see her looking around and thinking, but that was the extent.

Thankfully, when Beth left, she used the umbrella.

* * *

Though he hated the idea of prophetic import, Julian had to admit it was easier to do groceries on a sunny day. Leaning against the rail of his cart, he took a moment to admire the countryside as it slowly ticked down the hill.

Despite his hatred of the game world, the sight itself was beautiful. Rolling hills adorned in an array of colourful trees. The anachronism of the flora was not lost on him, as the arrangement was beyond impossible, but it was easy to love if you ignored that. It was impossibly beautiful.

Turning his gaze down to the village, he was surprised to see someone waiting for him. His eyes narrowed for a moment as he realized it was The Player, but they softened as he beheld her looser, free posture.

Not to mention her wardrobe. Normally, Beth dressed in overalls and a long sleeve shirt with the aforementioned sleeves rolled up. Stereotypical farm look. Clara tended to dress looser, and more like a city girl. Short pants and shirt, and a ball cap adorned with the emblem of the nearby city's team.

It was...odd. He knew the city name, but never considered it real. An invisible place, defined only by references in dialogue. But Clara seemed to be from there. He had never asked her about it though. Maybe it was time to change that.

"Hey, nerd," she greeted with a light wave and a brilliant smile.

Definitely Clara, he noted with a smile. Hers was infectious, and despite his misgivings about Beth, he couldn't help but be swept up in hers when she offered it, which wasn't nearly enough. Calmly, he pushed up his glasses, and looked her up and down.

"You're looking quite liberated today."

"You could say that," she agreed with a shrug. "Don't know why. Don't care. You shopping?"

"Of course. Even one so impressive as myself must deign to descend from my high fortress to purchase consumer goods now and again."

"Well, Mr. High-And-Mighty, might you deign to let me accompany you?" she asked, elbowing him gently. He chuckled lightly at the familiar gesture. He enjoyed how outgoing Clara was on her good days. It contrasted with the fake, gentle kindness of Beth. The constant, predictable gifts which did nothing but raise an artificial meter.

"I've been meaning to ask," he started, almost pausing as he spoke. "I wanted to ask about your hat."

"Oh, this?" Clara asked, taking it in her hands. "It's just a memento, really."

"A memento of?" Julian asked, pressing slightly. He could see a bittersweet note creep into her smile.

"My family, and home. Before I moved here, I lived in the city. It was nice there. I loved going to baseball games. Everyone says it's a boring sport, but I liked it. Not much out here in the way of sports…"

Julian frowned at the thought, but tried to push it aside. "Well, I must admit I've never been an athlete myself, but I am fond of numbers. Baseball is actually a very numbers oriented game."

"You don't say?" she asked rhetorically, waving nonchalantly to one of the villagers.

Julian nodded. "Of course. All players have batting averages. Using those numbers, you could theoretically model an entire game of baseball. Or extrapolate out to a season."

"No way. You're pulling my leg," Clara said with a laugh.

"I'm deadly serious, I'm afraid," Julian laughed as they stepped into the local grocery store. He nodded to the store owner. "Morning, Francois."

"Alright Doc, how?" Clara demanded. "Also, what are you looking for?"

"Just some basic things. Food for the next few weeks," Julian explained, offering her the list from his pocket. "They're called Monte-Carlo simulations. The idea is that you generate random numbers to simulate random outcomes compared to statistical percentages in order to produce a semi-random result."

"I think I understood about a quarter of that," Clara admitted, handing him a can of green beans. "I'm pretty sure I have some higher quality versions of these on the farm if you want."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Julian thanked. "You need that money in order to build the farm. Gotta save up for a solid gold statue of yourself."

"Like that's gonna happen," Clara laughed with a roll of her eyes.

"All these games need inflated end-game content. Something to grind for. Like...putting in 999 hours in the mine and spending 9999 generic-money-bucks at the carpenter to unlock the statue which you can build in an actual real life year," Julian explained, bending down to look at the lower shelves, fishing out a can of beans. "As for Monte Carlo simulations, let's use baseball to explain how it could work."

"Let's pretend your first guy is up to bat. He has a solid 0.5 batting average. We pick a random number from 0 to 1 and if it's lower, he hits, but if it's higher, he misses. So he hits, and the next guy is up. You keep doing this for each guy until you get three misses and it changes sides. Then you can do it for the other team. Get the idea?"

"Yeah, I think I do. Say, you got a TV?"

"Yes. Let me guess; you wish to proposition me to watch a baseball game sometime and see if you or I are more accurate?"

"Actually, I wanted to watch the cooking channel," she deadpanned before laughing. "Stop reading my mind, Doc. You're only supposed to do that to the NPCs. But in answer to your question, yes. Call me curious."

"Curious!" he responded immediately, earning a flick to the nose. _Worth it,_ he thought. "Alright, then. Next time you get a day off and there's a baseball game on, feel free to swing by."

"Sounds good," she smiled, handing him a carton of eggs. "You know...it's odd. Every day, I handle eggs, but it feels weird to do it myself."

"I would imagine that possession feels weird," Julian joked, trying to dispel the coming conversation.

"Yeah...yeah…" Clara muttered lamely.

"Don't let it get you down," Julian assured her. "You're free today. Enjoy it. Don't let them take that from you."

"I know. It's just hard sometimes."

Julian nodded. "I don't know exactly how you feel, but I know something kind of close."

"What do you mean?" Clara asked, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

"Before you arrived, I thought I was the only sentient person in town," Julian explained quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was in ear shot. Despite their programming, he still felt bad bad mouthing the villagers. It wasn't their fault. "Everyone else follows schedules to a perfect dot unless interrupted, and they all have programmed responses. It was maddening to be the only person in town with free will."

Clara was silent for a moment, and she glanced off to the side, her eyes lost in thought. Quietly, Julian waited for her to think, glancing over his shoulder as one of the villagers entered the door right on time.

"I never thought about that," she admitted. "How long were you alone?"

The question shot through him like a knife to the stomach, and he could tell from Clara's reaction his expression was...unpleasant.

"Too long," he replied flatly, turning with a sigh. Clara was fortunately silent, and the two bought groceries without saying anything. Stepping out into the sun, Julian paused, looking at her. Her own expression mimicked his: tired, and somber.

"You headed home?"

"Huh?" Clara jerked up, startled from her thoughts. "Uh...I guess. Not much to do today really. Already took care of the farm, and I don't feel like talking with any of the townies."

Julian snorted lightly at her wording. _The townies_. A category that excluded only her and himself. He wasn't dense enough to miss that. "Well, in that case, would you care to stop by my place? We can take the tram?"

Seeing Clara light up made him sure he had made the right choice.

* * *

Sitting on the porch, Julian reflected that he was happy. And a glance over at Clara confirmed the same was true of her.

Adjusting his posture as he settled into the rocking chair, he realized he didn't even know how long it had been since Beth had been the one in control. _It had been a summer_ , he thought. But it had been years since then, and the exact day was lost on him. Not something he wanted to remember, he admitted.

"What did you want to do tomorrow?" he asked her, gently touching her hand.

"I don't know," she admitted, shrugging. He could see her look at the small vegetable garden in front of their house. Not more than either of them could handle easily, but surprisingly fun and engaging. With more than an ounce of begrudging, he started to see why players liked it so much.

Julian nodded in silent agreement, looking out towards the bay. It was always relaxing to watch the sun on the waves, but right now he was staring through it. He had a vague idea, and it rolled around in his mind slowly. No need to rush.

"How about visiting the city? It's been a while since you've been back, hasn't it?"

Clara was silent for a moment. When she spoke, he could hear the edge of nerves to her voice. "Do you think that would be alright? I mean...does it exist?"

Julian shrugged. "Might, might not. Either way, I'd like to see it."

"What if the Player-"

"The Player hasn't picked it up in years. It doesn't matter," he answered quickly. "And even if they did, I'd be here. I'll always be here."

Clara laid back, going silent once more. Finally, she smiled. "I know you will be. And...I think that might be nice. Visiting home."

"Then tomorrow, we'll go to the city. But for today, let's just enjoy being here."


End file.
